Dragon: Allie's War Book Nine (82 page)

She’d been on her way here…

“It is too late for that, too,” the aged seer said coldly. “It is far too late for a lot of things, Nenzi.”

Menlim looked to the guard to his right.

He nodded to him, once.

Without waiting, the tattoo-faced seer stepped forward. Pulling an organic strap off his belt, he wound his arm back. He hit Revik hard across the face and neck with the strap, cutting his breath. The thing had a charge on it that made it feel more like glass…like a knife through his skin, rather than a belt.

Revik gasped in shock, his vision whiting briefly from the pain.

Groaning, he had to fight to focus his eyes again when he raised his head.

Menlim was staring at him, contempt in his eyes.

“I should congratulate you on your choice of strategies, however,” the yellow-eyed seer said. “It was ingenious having your wife play the part of the unfaithful, lying adulteress and whore…a role she is most suited for, obviously…”

The tattooed seer wound up, hitting him harder with the strap the second time, that time across the neck and collarbone.

Revik groaned, tasting blood when the edge of the weapon cut his lips.

He knew Menlim wouldn’t just hit him out of spite. This had to be calculated too. He wanted Revik to open his light.

He’d probably beat him to a fucking pulp to get him to open it.

Unlike when he’d been a child, he wouldn’t care much about hiding scars anymore, either.

Menlim clicked at him softly as Revik looked up, his eyes holding a sharper scrutiny.

“I think you might have miscalculated this time, nephew,” he said then, those cold eyes studying his face. “I do believe the act may have gotten away from her…from both of them, perhaps. From what I saw of the intelligence reports there, she might actually be developing feelings for this seer you put her with…perhaps more than simply those of a baser attraction. I am told their light is so entwined now that they appear almost like mates themselves…” Seeing Revik wince, Menlim tilted his head. “…I’m sure it would have presented quite a difficult choice for her. In the event you ever came back…”

Revik felt that sick feeling in his gut worsen.

Menlim watched his eyes for a beat more, then shrugged, holding up his hands.

“Ah, well,” he said, clicking ruefully. “I suppose it is in the nature of the duplicitous to be disloyal…even among their own kind. Still, I would think that would bother you, your own mate shifting loyalties so quickly. I wonder if they have discussed yet how to raise your child together, in the event you failed…”

The tattooed seer hit him again, making Revik cry out.

His head hung down after the blow and the seer hit him again while he gasped, fighting to catch his breath. He couldn’t control his light, couldn’t feel it really, but its loss didn’t deaden the pain. He could feel the warm wet trickle on the side of his face, knew his cheek had been cut. He knew what Menlim was doing, but he couldn’t do anything to stop it from happening.

“It won’t kill them,” Menlim said.

Revik looked up, squinting through the pain to see the other seer.

“The collar,” Menlim clarified. “It won’t kill your mate. Or your daughter.”

Pain whited out Revik’s mind again, mixed with a relief he knew the other would feel. His light opened slightly and the seer hit him again, hard enough to make Revik cry out.

Menlim lifted an eyebrow, giving Revik another small frown as he pulled the gloves off one hand, finger by finger. “As tempted as I am to dispose of you and your mate…to finally rid myself of the despicable violence, turmoil and
fairytales
you attempt to foist upon your own people…your daughter shouldn’t be made to suffer for your crimes…”

He nodded at the seer with the strap, and the tattooed seer wound up again.

He hit him harder that time.

Lowering his head, Revik gasped, spitting blood. It might have knocked him down if it wasn’t for the guard with the pole holding him up.

The pain in his heart worsened as he replayed Menlim’s words.

“We will wait for your bitch mate to come to us…” Menlim continued, his voice the same as before. “We will have
you
take her down, brother…which is only right. By then, you might even want to be the one to do it…without any coercion from us. Once she is disposed of, we will determine how best to retrieve the property she stole from me…”

The tattooed seer hit him again, forcing a cry out of Revik’s throat.

Again, he couldn’t be sure if it was from the physical pain.

“I believe some small element of
you
might even be salvageable in all of this, when all is said and done, Nenzi,” Menlim said, giving him an openly contemptuous look. “Of course, you have utterly lost the privilege of a willing role in my administration, nephew. At this point, I’ll take pleasure in stripping every ounce of agency from that deluded mind of yours so that I might salvage what remains of your light. As much pleasure, sadly, as the same would have caused me pain only a few years ago.”

His voice grew coldly angry once more.

“…You are an embarrassment to your race, Nenzi. An embarrassment to everything you are supposed to stand for…”

The tattooed seer hit him again, across the body that time.

Blinking through blood now running into his eyes, Revik stared up at Menlim’s face.

The expression there––even the shape of his skull outlined by those sharp, orange lights––brought back his childhood in a brutal rush of emotion and memory. That base, animal terror returned, so intensely he felt sick from the adrenaline that pooled in his blood.

“Please.” His words came out low, almost hoarse. “Please…leave them alone…I’ll do whatever you want…”

Menlim let out a low grunt, shaking his head.

“The time for begging is long past too, nephew.”

He nodded to the tattooed seer again, who hit Revik across the arms and back that time.

Revik let out a grunt, jerking forward only to be stopped by the restraints.

Slapping the gloves lightly on one hand, Menlim shook his head, his mouth firming again as he looked down at him.

“Of course, I know no amount of hitting you will accomplish much,” he said, that thinly veiled disgust back in his voice. “Luckily, we have other means of persuasion at our disposal. This is more to remind you of your place. And perhaps to remind you of who you are dealing with…since you seem to require the lesson more and more the older you get…rather than less.”

The tattooed seer hit him again, so hard that time, Revik grunted, blinded again briefly from the pain. The seer kicked him in the kidney then and he nearly passed out.

“I would have preferred you willing, nephew,” Menlim added. His voice dropped to a mutter, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “…I always wanted you willing…always. I never wanted you like this. Implanting the means of coercion was always intended only as a back up…a contingency, if you will. A last resort.”

He turned, staring at Revik’s face with those yellow eyes.

“Despite what you think, I never wanted you as a slave, Nenzi. Never.”

The tattooed seer stepped forward again, about to hit him across the face again, but that time, Menlim raised two fingers to stop him.

“No. No more in the face…not right now. I don’t want him blinded before we deal with the girl,” he said.

Revik felt himself tense, even as he panted, recovering from the blows.

He looked up to find Menlim staring at him again, his expression clinical. His voice came out neutral that time, almost formally polite.

“Comrades. Kindly bring her out now, please.”

Revik felt his throat close.

It hit him then. He knew this part of the evening’s show, too. Some darker, more distant part of his mind understood even before he heard them.

Even so, as the cries grew audible, he turned, fighting to see through blood and sweat, his eyes struggling to make sense of what they dragged out in front of him. This was familiar, though. So damned familiar he felt sick even before he recognized her face.

The consort, Charlie, was being dragged across the lawn by three of Menlim’s uniformed guards. She struggled, yelling at the guards in Mandarin.

Revik couldn’t make sense of the words at first. They confused him though. The panic there, the knowing. Had they told her what they intended? Did she know?

Then he saw the girl.

He realized most of Charlie’s words were about her.

“No! Please! Not
her!
Not her! Do whatever you want to me, but don’t hurt her, please!” Charlie screamed. “Not her! Gods…please, not her…she’d never be a threat to you!”

Her voice held so much fear, so much grief and pain and terror that Revik felt his whole body react. Pain crashed around him, obliterating his mind, any semblance of rationality. He found himself fighting the bindings, but he could barely move. They didn’t even bother to hit him to get him to stop.

But now that he’d seen her, he couldn’t take his eyes off the girl.

She couldn’t have been more than sixteen as a seer.

In human years, she looked about seven years old.

“No!” Charlie screamed. “Please! I’ll do whatever you want! Anything! Brothers, do not do this thing…don’t hurt her, please! Please…”

Tears ran down Revik’s face. Blinding him. Blinding him more than the blood, but not enough. He could still see her. He still couldn’t look away.

They pushed the girl into the clearing in front of him.

He saw her stumble. Saw her catch her balance, confusion in her rounded face.

Some part of Revik got lost there, staring at her small body. She wore a nightgown, like something from decades ago…a different time, when people wore such things. Some cartoon character lived there in faded pink. She had pink toenail polish too, most of it worn off. A bruise darkened one shin, maybe from playing some game.

Then he felt eyes on him, and realized the girl was looking at him.

Almost without meaning to, he looked up, meeting her gaze.

Chinese features like her mother. Light green eyes.

She stared at him through a curtain of straight black hair, her expression still confused, still containing flickers of fear, but now holding something else, too. Empathy. She was confused, fearful for her mother. But that compassion drove a spike through him, the heart he knew he’d feel if his light could have touched hers at all.

Lily was like that. Lily felt everything…she loved everyone.

It took Revik another few seconds to realized that compassion was aimed at him.

He choked, felt some part of his chest break inside.

“No…” He scarcely heard his own voice. Some part of him was screaming, screaming into the night air, but his words came out a bare whisper. “Gods…please no…no…”

“Shoot her,” Menlim said, his voice flat.

Revik felt his whole body react. He was breathing too much, gasping, groaning in a kind of pain as he shook his head, still looking the girl in the face.

“No,” he groaned. “No…gods, no. I’ll do anything…please…”

The tattooed seer unholstered his gun. Turning towards the girl he raised it, aiming it directly at her head, his expression unmoving.

“No,” Revik gasped, even as some part of him woke up for real. “NO! Please, brothers…please. Menlim!” He looked up at his old guardian, hearing the pleading in his voice. “Brother…uncle! I’m sorry…I’m sorry…please. Don’t do this…I’ll do anything, whatever you––”

A shot rang out in the cold air. Clear. Loud in the morning quiet.

Revik turned his head…

…and saw the girl crumple to the grass.

The tattooed seer holstered the gun, still no expression on his high-cheekboned face.

So simple. So completely fucking simple.

Revik stared down at the grass, his heart beating so hard it hurt his chest. Her feet were bare. He’d known that, but seeing those small soles, the pale, pinkish bottoms, made his mind stutter, try to phase out. One leg stretched out straight, the other bent at a graceful angle, her hands open to tilt small palms up to the sky.